Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Damn Dentist

I'd like to know why my dentist office is stalking me.

Apparently dentist office is equivalent to, say, a psychotic, possessive boyfriend and canceling a dentist appointment is equivalent to breaking up with said dentist office. Calling to follow up and leaving a message asking if I want to reschedule ONCE is sufficient, but FOUR phone calls?

Yeah, sure, it starts with phone calls, but soon I'll start noticing a shadowy figure lurking in the bushes outside my window with binoculars. And, then I'll come home late after a night out, pull back the shower curtain to take a nice, relaxing shower and there beady serial killer eyed dentist office will be wearing my underwear and holding one of my large, dull knives because you know, I'm not one for keeping up with the maintenance of my utensils since the kitchen and I don't exactly get along.

I have bigger fish to fry right now such as finding employment so I don't have to move back in with my parents (oh dear lord NOOOO! Not that my parents aren't wonderful, but seriously? How many times can I fail at life and crawl back to mommy and daddy? I'm going to be the 40-year-old still living in my parents' basement...). Every time dentist office called, which usually woke me up, I'd roll my eyes and ignore it. There's no reason for me to waste my time and call the damn dentist office back to say, I'll call ya back when I have insurance again, but thanks for your concern. Your weird, stalkery, overbearing concern...

Now since I've been applying for jobs, a strange number popped up on my phone yesterday and I of course answered it. Except it was bastard dentist office tricking me and calling me from another number.

"Lara? You still need a clean-ing," the snotty receptionist said in a condescending and annoyed tone.

"Yeah, I lost my job and I don't have insurance right now, so when I work it out, I'll call you," I said.


Oh no you just di-ent biotch. Now not only is the dentist office stalking me, but they've also hired a sullen teenager as a receptionist. It's like, if I wait 8 or 9 months as opposed to the standard 6 months for a teeth cleaning, my fucking teeth are not going to rot out of my head. And, why the hell do they care so much? They're my damn teeth.

I've had problems with this dentist office before, and even though I had every intention of returning there when all of my insurance woes were worked out, I've now changed my mind. Sorry dentist office, I thought of reconciling, but now you've pushed me too far. I break up. Deal with it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Haha, I once had a doctor like that. Every time I'd go there for say, allergy medication every six months or so, he'd be all "Now, let's give you a physical!" and I'd be all, ", I had one six months ago." Then I'd receive notices once a week in the mail to come in for another one. Aagh. Stop it! Although he was the doctor who, when I told him I'd been getting bad eye strain headaches, said, "How do they make you feel?" PRETTY EFFING PISSED OFF DOC. He said, "Have you thought about anti-depressants?"



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